


All of the lies

by vminthough



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art Student Kim Taehyung | V, Blood and Injury, Dancer Park Jimin (BTS), Enemies to Lovers, Found Families, Friendship, Hate to Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Snakes, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, jimin and snakes, jimin and taehyug, liars, lying, mild slut shaming, rich boy jimin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vminthough/pseuds/vminthough
Summary: Taehyung was sure of three things; he hated liars more than anything else, everyone had the lies of their soulmates scribed onto their bodies and lastly that his body was covered in them.
Relationships: Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin
Comments: 41
Kudos: 423
Collections: Vmin Secret Santa 2k19





	All of the lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yilingtae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yilingtae/gifts).



Taehyung was sure of three things; he hated liars more than anything else, everyone had the lies of their soulmates scribed onto their bodies and lastly that his body was covered in them.

Like every other child, Taehyung had cried out loud the first time his body burnt in the pain of words being written on it. It felt like a thin metal needle that had been heated in a kiln and was running alongside his ribcage. It was the innocent lie of a 3-year-old who said: “no, I didn’t take it, mommy.” 

As a child when he looked at himself at the beach and compared his body to the people around him, he felt normal. The lies had been nothing out of the ordinary and he was growing to love the words on his body. But that all changed as he grew older, because then he was doubling up in pain all the time, the lies were far fetched and longer. And in the last years of high school, he was in constant agony, it was as if with time his soulmate was hell-bent on making his life as miserable as possible.

Taehyung lie awake at night, his tears pooling in his ears and heart aching. How was his soulmate so selfish? In a society where lies were the biggest crimes, the worst trait in a person, how come his soulmate had no care for how Taehyung felt? For the amount of pain he was being subjected to on a regular basis, he knew he could never love someone so selfish. 

Across Taehyung’s heart was scribed the words “I love you” and it was in the darkest of black. The more that his soulmate spoke the same lie, the darker it was etched onto his skin. The more that it hurt. How many people had his soulmate slept with? Lured into his net until they twisted their ankles and realised that it was all a facade? What kind of a heartless monster would do such a thing? In the 3 am darkness, Taehyung would find himself clutching onto the edge of his bed, hands gripping into the mattress until his fingers turned white, in a pain that woke him up from his deepest slumber: his soulmate was confessing his love to someone yet again but the person that was hurting the most was Taehyung. 

They were in the university auditorium, Taehyung had dragged all of his friends to watch the 2nd year’s “little women” play, having seen a flyer on the bathroom stall and knowing it was a better way of spending his Tuesday afternoon than Jungkook convincing him to a game of overwatch. 

Taehyung had not moved out for university, his city had the third most prestigious university and only the biggest fools and those who could not meet the harsh requirements decided to study elsewhere. But his city was flooded with people from all over the country, having been at the top of the league table for decades. It was filled with a class of elites that no one bothered befriending, not even Taehyung, who was the biggest sunshine the university offered. His boxy smile and chubby cheeks were on the leaflets for many of the campus events. He was known by name by half the university, you were either Kim Taehyung’s friend or knew someone who was. But it was Taehyung himself who stayed aloof from the rich, he hated them and all their snobbish ways. Arrogance was the second most hated trait to Taehyung, liars being the top of the list. 

“Hyung, what did the watermelon say-”

Taehyung felt a jab on side and was ready to scream at Jungkook when he looked at where the younger boy was pointing and he felt his entire self turn cold. It was like all the noise and clutter of the auditorium had been sucked up and Taehyung was swirling in a fog that shrouded everything but the three boys that were climbing the stairs. 

The first thing that caught Taehyung’s gaze and stopped his breath halfway out of his lungs was the contrast of the sharp expression that the boy wore to the pink tainted cheeks. He walked with the confidence of a movie star, as if wherever he walked a red carpet was laid under his feet. In a swift motion, he used the knuckle of his forefinger to raise his black sunglasses from his eyes to rest on his perfectly tousled hair. It was dyed a soft grey, and this was the first time Taehyung had seen someone rock such a look. Then Taehyung spotted the snake earrings, and amidst the sea of black clothing and grey hair, he swore he saw them slither around the boy’s ears, a mixture of red and green. He felt a knot at the bottom of his stomach, he had never seen anyone so beautiful. 

He was a piece of art that hung under the surrealism title. Taehyung’s favourite style. 

“Park Jimin,” Jungkook whispered, “he is the richest bastard this university has at this moment.” 

“You know a lot about our university for someone who has not even started attending it,” Namjoon smiled, his easily eyebrows raising. It was rare for the older hyung to tease his younger friends, but Taehyung always founding it endearing it whenever he did it. 

“Well I don’t want to study in your pathetic university anyways, I have better things to do with my time.” Jungkook flashed Namjoon one of his charming smiles, Taehyung wondered when he would stop hitting on the older boy, he was tired of Jungkook’s failures more than the boy himself. 

“Like playing games rather than trying to pass your college exams?” Hoseok quipped in, now this hyung did tease the younger ones a lot. Like almost at every breath. 

“Hyung move over to the next seat, there isn’t enough space here.”

“But why we just-” Taehyung stopped mid-sentence when he saw what scene unfolded to his right.

The three boys, all in black ripped jeans and leather jackets, were at the edge of their line of seats and glaring down at the two boys who were sitting there. It took about 2 seconds before they got the message and started shuffling over to the left. It was a cascading effect of everyone having to move three seats to the one they were sat on, forcing a group of friends to move over to the row above.

With a sigh, Taehyung shoved his backpack with his foot and put his coat on the back of his newly acquired seat. “Fucking rich people and their entitlement to everything,” he whispered under his breath. He was not going to pick a fight, not with something he was well used to by now. It was a daily occurrence for them to cause an inconvenience to anyone who was not in their rank. Taehyung would rather spend his time showering his friends with love and affection; they meant more to him than family at this point in life. It hadn’t always been like this though; once upon a time, his family had been his first and foremost. But not anymore. 

It was not in Taehyung’s plan to argue with those foul-mouthed rich boys, and yet by the end of the show, that was exactly what had happened. Everyone was waiting for the three boys with their sour expressions and sharp jaws to get up and leave, and yet they sat chatting as if their fathers had bought time in large bags for them. ‘Selfish as usual, what a fucking surprise,’ Taehyung thought to himself, he was tired of everyone being so scared of them and decided to get up. Namjoon pulled on his t-shirt and tried to pull him back to his seat, but he was not going to let be orchestrated by them, he wanted to get out and that was exactly what he was going to do. 

Taehyung had crossed them, glancing forward and hoping they would not do anything stupid. He was about to walk out with a smile on his face, more out of relief than anything else when he heard a thump and a burst of laughter that cut through his bones. The boy at the edge, the one with the rosy cheeks and the expression of it being doomsday tomorrow, had his leg out and Namjoon was on the floor, having been tripped over by him. 

Before he knew what he was doing, the zipper of the grey-haired boy’s jacket was in his hands, they were as sharp as knives and were digging into his perfectly manicured nail beds. Taehyung took a lot of pride in his hands. “Why did you do that to him?” He spat in the boy’s face. Dragging him from his seat until they stood eye to eye. 

Park Jimin’s hands wrapped tightly around his own, Taehyung felt the coldness of the five bulky rings on the back of his own hands. And with one deft movement, he threw Taehyung’s hands away. 

“Because I wanted to,” he replied, every word enunciated as if he was a lecturer in a language class. 

“What did you get from making him fall over you bastard? He did nothing to you,” Taehyung was speaking through gritted teeth, his hands balled into fists by his side. He was tight around his shoulders and wanted to kick the boy in his face. 

The tallest of the three stepped forward so that half Park Jimin was covered, “Please speak respectfully to my friend, or else you will lose the capacity to speak at all.” 

Park Jimin smiled, it was a picturesque view like a landscape painting of the cherry blossoms of Japan that you saw in antique shops. Taehyung never hated anyone more. 

“That’s enough, let’s go,” Hoseok was grabbing his hand and pulling him backwards. The heat that he felt at the top of his head dimmed down a little. Hoseok’s hand felt familiar in his and it was all he needed to calm him down to think properly. 

But before he could turn around, he looked into the fierce eye of his opponent, “I will make you regret this,” he said, knowing full well that he would make it come true. Or else he would cut his tongue out and never speak again from his own will.

“Why did you have to stop me hyung? I want to kick him until he can’t remember his name. That scumbag,” Taehyung huffed out, the four of them were in the canteen, no one besides Jungkook actually eating anything. 

“You don’t want to get on the wrong side of them Taehyungie, they look like the sort to get people hired to get you beaten up in a dark alley. By the way, Joonie, did you get hurt anywhere?” Hoseok asked, as the oldest of the group, he had the responsibility for the rest of them and he did a great job at keeping them all in line. 

“I’m fine Hobi, my knees just got scratched a little,” Namjoon said, fiddling with his cheesecake, something he bought regularly, more because Jungkook liked eating it than for himself. 

“Want me to rub balm on it?” Jungkook piped up, his eyes sparkling, already folding his shirtsleeves up. Namjoon blushed, the younger boy had not stopped flirting with him for years but still Namjoon found it as endearing as ever.

“You will do no such thing, now finish eating before I leave your sorry ass here,” Hoseok answered, regardless of his sharp words, his eyes were still soft when he looked at the youngest, it was hard not to love the bunny smiled, messily dressed boy. 

“Not to be that person again, but I searched up snake rings on google and the ones that Park Jimin is wearing is from this years autumn collection from Saint Laurent,” Jungkook watched everyone’s face to see their reaction; no one provided him with one. 

Taehyung hit him on the head and got up to leave, “and why are you surprised by that?” 

“Because they literally got announced like 2 days ago! He is rich rich!” He heard Jungkook shout behind him. 

He was walking away, tired of Jungkook’s constant reminder of the person that had hurt his friend. He was going to go for a walk, clear his mind of the mist that the afternoon’s events had landed him in. He was swirling in them, like a piece of string in a tornado, spinning in circles. 

Taehyung’s room represented his mind, it was a chaotic mess off all of his creations. He wanted to vanish everything in that moment, condense it to just a simple bed that he could lie in and forget the past few hours. And yet, he could not swift things with his mind like Matilda, so he waded through all the paintings on the floor, kicked the photographs to the side and shoved past the countless shirts that lay draped over his bed. 

He face planted into his duvet, he was adamant to get back at this Park Jimin asshole, no one gets away with hurting his friends. Not when they were the only things that kept him afloat ever since his family broke to pieces and his house turned into shreds of what was once a whole piece. He was 10 years old when his parents had had a divorce, and years later he still ached for the perfect family they had once been. Whoever said time heals was the biggest liar of them all, that shit did nothing at all for the pain that Taehyung suffered through. He had grown up as the happiest child, love being thrown at him from every direction as the first child. But he gave it all back to his younger siblings as they grew up, knowing that his parents had to divide their attention in three equal pieces. Their laughter still rang in his ears; the three had not been together in the same place for months. He missed them like a lost limb. Their mothers one lie had managed to end all of their happiness.

He felt the sharp tingling of a new lie being engraved onto his skin, he didn’t even bother reading it. He was tired of his skin being filled with words that were one day going to tear apart families and suck away at the joys of life. He, in futile, made a prayer to never meet his soulmate; he could not love him, not after what he had already done to Taehyung’s body and heart without even having met him. 

It was on the second meeting that Taehyung bled, the side of his lip cut and a snake engraved onto his jaw.

He had spotted Park Jimin and his two asshole friends by the car park. All he wanted to do was go and deck the scumbag, the anger of the past few days still simmering slowly. His fingers pulsated. “I just want to smash his face onto the grit, make him regret what he did to Namjoon hyung.” 

“When did you become so violent hyungie?” Jungkook asked, his eyebrows arched and a quizzical expression written across it. 

“He makes my blood boil at the temperature of a thousand suns,” Taehyung said, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He gripped his a2 art folder tighter, the cheap plastic cutting into his palm. 

“Please don’t look at something you can’t afford,” the tallest of them said. 

Taehyung snapped his head to see that Jungkook had his head turned entirely at the trio by the car, and kicked him sideways. ‘What the fuck is wrong with this guy?’ He thought. 

“Jin hyung, let us not waste our time on meaningless interactions, they are not worth a second of it,” Park Jimin said in a low, drooling voice. 

“Yes, because you sound like you have jumped straight back from the 19th century,” Taehyung was furious, he was not going to be looked down at like that. Jungkook was flushed a red colour, embarrassed to have been caught in the crime of what he did best; gawking.

“Why don’t you come here and speak to us? I hate raising my voice,” Jin said, he crossed his arms over his chest and lent back onto the car. 

“Hyung, the larger the distance between them and us the better, don’t call them here, especially that one,” he raised his eyebrows at Jungkook, “looks like he has not seen a decently dressed human before.” The youngest of the three had a smirk on his face. He wore a stipped full-sleeved shirt with black trousers that were rolled up just over his ankles, his black leather loafers visible to the world to see. Today he wore a snake necklace that nested on his sternum, just before the first button of his shirt. A black belt adored his middle, on closer inspection, it was scaled just like a snake too,

Within seconds Taehyung had crossed the distance that had separated them. He could hear Jungkook protesting behind him, but he was tired of these rich snobs and their unrealistic expectations of how they wanted the rest of the world to treat them. Park was going to pay for insulting Jungkook, he did not care much for what they said about himself. 

He dropped his art folder and punched the boy in the middle in the face, Taehyung was aiming for the nose, but surprisingly, he swiftly moved his face so that Taehyung’s fist caught just a small part of his jaw. 

He saw Park Jimin grin, wipe the side of his face with his thumb and take a step forward. He looked like the sweetest boy alive, and Taehyung was fooled by his smile and what came next that he did not even feel the blow to his face. 

“No one taught pretty boy how to punch?” Park Jimin said and hit Taehyung so hard that he stumbled backwards, he would have landed on the floor if Jungkook had not caught him. 

He was about to go for another blow when the quietest of the three put a hand on his shoulder and Taehyung saw him lean into the touch. His entire gait loosed and his fist stopped mid-way to Taehyung’s face.

“That’s enough for today Jimin-ssi.” It was the first time Taehyung heard him speak, he had a smooth voice, like a chocolate with a soft filling inside. It would be hard to resist anything he ever asked anyone to do. 

The one named Jin came forward and put his hand on the smaller boy’s waist from the back, “Yoongi is right, think about your reputation Jiminie, remember who’s name you represent lovely.” 

Taehyung spat blood over the car as the three got in and left the parking lot. He saw how Jin stopped the younger one from driving, and got into the driver's seat himself. He saw how the one named Yoongi got in the backseat with Park Jimin, and how he held his face until he unclenched his jaw and smiled at him. 

“How can they be so caring towards that bastard?” Taehyung said as Jungkook wiped away at the blood on his mouth. “They treat him like he is some pink petaled rose that they are too scared to lose, what the fuck.” 

Jungkook didn’t say anything, he just turned Taehyung to him and drew him to an embrace. Snuggled his face into Taehyung’s neck, it was his thank-you hug. Taehyung was used to receiving these, he was always doing things for the youngest, how could he not when they were all he had left? 

“Why did you fight Park Jimin today?” Namjoon was all over Taehyung as soon as he saw him, his hand softly brushing the bruise that was adorning his face.

Taehyung was a master of white lies, he never lied outright, knowing how much pain those could bring. But he had gotten used to the art of twisting his words so that they could not be put under the category of lying. “How do you know I didn’t fight someone else?”

“Because you have a snake embossed onto your face, dumbass,” Namjoon smiled, his eyes glistened with a look of endearing that caught at Taehyung’s heart. He was so thankful for the position he played in the group, so glad that he could open up to the older hyungs and be playful with Jungkook. They were the perfect set of friends, just like his family had once been, but unlike his blood-relations, he was never going to let these three go.

* * *

There was only one thing Jimin was sure of: his soulmate had died at the age of ten. 

He found himself aching for a sentence, a phrase or even just a word to be written across his body and yet nothing came. At first, he paid it no attention, maybe his soulmate had enrolled to become a nun or something and was not allowed to lie but as he grew older all of his silly excuses seemed to fade. He found himself praying for something to show up on his body, anything was better than slowly coming to terms with the fact that you would be an outcast; a shell of a person without a soulmate.

He started lying more and more, watching the expressions of the people around him to see if they flinched or teared up at the pain of being scribed on. Nothing came. He broke his heart with each lie, felt a sharp knife slice through the soft muscles of his tendons. He felt his heart grow thinner and thinner over time; each lie peeling a layer of cells of off it. Leaving him weak and fragile. 

From a young age, he was taught by his two brothers, not by blood but by every other condition, that people would use him for his money and intelligence but he shook them off, told them no one would be so mean. And yet that was exactly what happened, and over the years he felt the pleasure of saying no for an answer, liked the sting on his knuckles from having punched someone. Started enjoying the taste of blood in his mouth from a good fight. If his soulmate was dead, it did not matter what he did with his time; so he lied because he knew no one was being hurt by his words anyways. He took everyone to bed, whispered I love you to girls at sunrise since they found that kind of thing romantic, and breathed the same words onto the necks of the boys he was making love to during the early mornings. 

He hated how years after having come to terms with the fact that he would never be loved by a soulmate, he still found himself yearning for them when he woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty for water and whatever true love was meant to be. He saw the spring flowers blossom and wondered how many more seasons would pass before he would finally forget what this longing felt like. 3 hours onto the highway, when one was more on autopilot than any other time, Jimin would look at the empty seat next to him and ache for the laughter of someone who had ceased to exist since childhood. His silent tears got dried by the wind gushing past as he drove 100 miles per hour, both of his hands gripping onto the steering wheel so hard, he was sure he would leave his imprints on them. 

He was walking from his physics department to the creative arts building, it was raining slightly but he was too fashionable to carry an umbrella. So he put his Ipad case on his head and tried to hurry indoors. He was not surprised to see the hot-tempered art boy stood at the front of it, he was holding a stall for the breast cancer research charity. Jimin shook his head, tried not to not be caught by the way he was high fiving everyone who bought the small photographs and paid whatever they had in return. He wore a mustard coloured shirt with small daisies on it, and a black-tie with a small lark pin on it.

Jin and Yoongi hyung had told him off for losing his temper so easily, for falling into the traps of boys like these who only sought out trouble. Unlike the three of them, these boys had no reputation to protect. It was meaningless to them to get into fights, and yet for Park Jimin, it would come with a stern phone call from his father if he heard his son was not behaving as he ought to. Fighting in high school was one matter, but now that he was attending one of the most prestigious universities, all eyes were on him to mess up.

Jimin walked by the stall without meeting anyone’s eyes. He tried not to turn back and kick the artist in the stomach as he whispered, “this is how the rich stay rich,” to the rest of the group. He dug his nails into the palms of his hands, ‘Jin hyung is right, people of this sort never ought to be given attention to,’ he thought as he climbed the 7 sets of stairs to reach the post-graduate offices. 

Jin was sat swivelling in his chair, his laptop lay open on the other side of the room, it had not been touched for at least 30 minutes, the small power button was simmering on and off slowly, reminding it’s user that it was still there to be made use of. Jimin knew Jin hyung would never use his office when Yoongi was in his own, which was about 16 hours of the day. The two were counter-opposite, Jin spent more time camping in the younger boy’s office than he did in his own; he hated being alone. 

Jimin had tears in his eyes by the time he crossed from the door to Jin’s embrace, he handed Yoongi his Ipad case and gripped onto Jin’s body. 

Yoongi lent down on his knees and wiped away the tears of his favourite dongsaeng. He was going to set ablaze whoever had hurt Jimin, it had been a while since Jimin had cried, but it made Yoongi’s heartache the same way. 

“I di-dn’t even say anything,” Jimin whispered, half choking on his tears. “I jus-t,” he breathed, “walked by.” 

He was angry at himself for being hurt in this way, when had he started to care about what others thought of him? Why was it that all of a sudden he was starting to take this nonsensical boy’s words to heart? He hated himself for crying, for not being strong enough to endure all the slurs that everyone threw at him. He thought he had left that weak boy when he was 15 years old. Buried him in the darkness of the night and risen once again as someone stronger. He hated the boy with the lark pin for affecting him once more, for resurrecting a part of himself he thought he had nailed the coffin to a long time ago. 

  
“I told you to keep your head down, didn't I?” Jin sounded angry. But he still held Jimin in his arms as if he were a newly-born kitten, the world being too harsh for the softness of him. He rubbed his back in small circles. 

“Who was it?” Yoongi tried not to sound too harsh, he did not want to upset Jimin any more than he already was.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimin sniffled, he sat up now, still on Jin’s lap. “It’s my fault for being too sensitive, it’s not like we have not heard this all before.”

“But. Who. Was. It?”

Jimin knew what would happen if he told them the name. He did not know what he was protecting this flowery-happy-go-lucky boy from, but he hated the idea of what Yoongi would do to him if he told him if he knew his identity. The medical bill would be larger than his tuition fees and he did not want to do that much harm to anyone else. One half-dead boy was enough for Jimin to know never to tell his older brothers the names of those who hurt him...

“I didn't see their faces, it was raining too much and they were walking in the opposite direction,” Jimin lied.

  
“Next time make sure you look up and see who it is,” Yoongi said, pulling Jimin out of Jin’s lap and bringing him over to the desk where his equipment lay. He was going to show Jimin his next set of lyrics, Jin had been of absolutely zero use when he had shown them to him, but he knew he could always trust Jimin when it came to his new works. 

Jimin did not know that 7 floors down, Taehyung placed his hand palm down onto the stall and waited for the words to be written across his calves. His vision blurred at the pain of a new inscription being threaded across his skin, binding him to a soulmate he knew he would never accept to be his own. He bit his tongue and willed away the tears, this was not the time to be reminiscing about his life choices. He had all the hours of the night to lay awake and watch the dreamcatcher swirl on his ceiling, whilst his mind fueled him all the images of the life he would lead alone.

The first time Taehyung met Park Jimin alone was outside of his lecture hall, which Jimin stood leaning against. Jungkook needed to be dropped off to college, which had resulted in him reaching the class with only 20 minutes remaining. 

“What’s pretty boy doing here?” Park Jimin asked. Taehyung hated how his words were always enunciated as if he was trying to stick a dagger in his ribcage with each of them.

“I have a name you know,” Taehyung snapped back.

“I can call you what I like, and pretty boy suits you,” there was a shine in his eyes that told Taehyung that he meant what he said. For the first time in his life, he wished he was born with a less perfect face, at least then this asshole would stop looking at it. ‘Having a model’s face has never been harder.’ He thought, but held back his grin, he was not going to show any signs of kindness to the boy in front of him. 

“Get the fuck out of my way Park, I’m already late.” 

“But, the module being taught here is Engineering Mathematics 1,” Jimin pointed to the little screen attached to the side of the class, it had a list of what lecture was running and it’s duration on it. 

“Your point is?”

“You are an art student?” 

“Art is a hobby of mine,” Taehyung said, ‘which I need to fill up my time unless I want to spiral in the darkness of my own mind’ he thought, but kept to himself. “I bet you don’t know what those are since all of your spare time is used up in looking down on others.”

All he got was a smile from the boy, before he gracefully side-stepped and motioned with his arm for Taehyung to go in. He thought this was too easy, and he was right because just as he was about to step into the room, he felt a push on his upper back and he was launched three steps down into the lecture hall. The back of his neck burnt as everyone glared at him, but he shrugged and grinned back cutely until they were forced to resume to their notes. There was not much Taehyung did not get away with his boxy smile. 

Taehyung bought his laptop out of his backpack and sighed. ‘You are going to beg me for something one day. And I will be merciless.’ 

Jimin stood leaning against the wall, he tutted to himself for assuming that the pretty boy was an art student but how was he to know he studied Engineering when he had paint on his eyebrows and carried pencil crayons in his floral shirts? Jimin lied to himself about why, on more than one occasion on his way to meeting his hyungs, he had stopped and stared into the art studios. He told himself that he only stood there and watched as the young artist concentrated on a drawing with his tongue half sticking out because it would give him something else to make fun of. Or that he was just taking a break from the long walk across campus as he saw the boy sat crossed-legged on the floor drawing on yet another beige jacket. Jimin knew he hated the pretty boy, and yet there was a part of him that found peace in watching him from afar, it was the same feeling he got when he heard the waves crash on his first beach holiday of the year; longing to be reunited with the sea after 3 seasons of separation. 

  
Taehyung was on his phone as soon as the lecture ended, he was screaming every swear he had been taught down at Jungkook. Jimin winched, he felt like his ears would bleed if he heard one more, but he had to wait there for his own lecture to begin, he had a mechanics class to attend. From the few actual words being spoken, Jimin understood that Taehyung had missed all of the important explanations and that out of his entire degree, this was the one module he hated studying the most. He sighed, they were very different people, because numbers were his special powers. He knew how to manipulate them in ways that made the marker raise their eyebrows; but the thing was, his working out was always so clear that he never got below a hundred on all of his tests. 

Jimin crossed the lecture hall until he was stood across from the pretty boy. “Please be mindful of where you are, this is not one of your market places. It’s a place of education.” He used his index finger to raise his tinted glasses higher on his nose. 

“Kookie, guess which royalty has come down from his high horse to remind me how to talk again,” Jimin watched as Taehyung laughed at the response from Jungkook, he wondered what insult had been fired at him, but he tried not to be too sensitive about it. 

“I am addressing you, so you can do the same.” Jimin drew out, ready to slap the phone out of his hand. 

“His Highness would like to be spoken to Kookie, but be prepared to be strangled when I pick you up. I love you.”

Taehyung turned to him now and looked him up and down. He wore a very see-through white t-shirt and black skinny jeans today. “What part of I want nothing to do with you do you not understand? Leave me alone.” 

“I want nothing to do with you either, I just wanted to remind you of how to behave in a professional place.” 

“Oh fuck off,” Taehyung said, he was ready to leave, when Jimin reached out and stopped him from the back of his shirt. He pinched onto the silky shirt with his thumb and forefinger, as delicately as he ever. ‘What are you doing?’ He wondered, before he could stop himself. 

“Let me help you with this module, the math is the same for both of us.” 

Taehyung’s laughter rang through the lecture hall loud and clear. He doubled over, getting out of Jimin’s grip. By the time he turned out, he had tears streaming down his face. He was struggling to form words because every time he begun to say anything, a new bubble of laughter burst out. 

“Your pathetic ass is going to teach me mathematics?” Taehyung said between his bouts of laughter, “I would rather eat my own fingers than agree to such a thing.”

“You are clearly struggling with your studies.” 

“I will quit this degree before I agree to be taught anything by you,” Taehyung spat in Jimin’s face. 

“I just want to be of help.” Jimin shrugged, he had turned halfway around and was ready to leave the conversation at that when he heard something else that made him freeze on the spot. 

“And what would you know about hard work anyways? I bet you got everything you wanted handed to you on a golden platter.” 

“Excuse me?” Jimin rubbed the green speckled snake on his finger. He was in public and knew he had promised Jin and Yoongi hyung he would not fight, but this boy was making it very difficult to restrain himself.

“You heard me Park,” the artsy boy raised his eyebrows so high it shifted his beret a little. It was a sight to be seen.

“You really believe that just because I have a rich family, I have never worked hard in my life?”

“Yes, in fact I do believe that, Prince Charming. I saw the way your “friends” treat you, I bet your dad pays them too.” Taehyung paused, ready to give the final blow. “You don’t deserve to be loved earnestly by anyone.” 

Jimin drew in a breath. It caught like a sharp piece of glass in his trachea. He hated how the second sentence was something he had come to believe for a while now.

“Don’t you dare talk about my older brothers like that.”

“Why? Does it hurt to have the truth spoken out loud? You know what else I believe?” 

Jimin was silent, he knew what was coming and yet he was not ready for the way it pierced every layer of his skin and left him sore once more. 

“That your lousy ass would never be able to get accepted into a prestigious university like this anyways. I bet your father paid your way into this degree too.” 

And that was how the snake imprint on Taehyung’s face was stamped for the second time. Except that this time he was hurled so forcefully, he hit his head on the back of the metal pole of one of the upturned chairs. Jimin watched the blood trickling down his neck and onto his white and blue shirt, it was a painting of the ocean; but now it looked like a murder had been committed at sea.

As soon as the car door slammed shut, Jimin let out a pained scream. He hit the steering wheel so hard that he felt it re-vibrated in his bones. The tears came next, and before he knew it, he was angling his punches in every way he knew would cause the most amount of harm. The sharp pain of each layer of skin being torn on his knuckles was all that kept him afloat. He would rather his mind focused on the agony that was ebbing through each of his cell than remember the hurt expression on the boy who was still lying on the back of a lecture hall somewhere.

Hours later, Jimin found himself shakily walking into the pharmacy on the hospitals ground floor for his prescribed codeine. The nurse had cleaned his wound with a sterile saline solution and then bandaged him in a way which left him still able to flex all of his fingers. She had tested this by telling him to “wiggle” his fingers, which had made him smile. The bandage was crossed cross in a way that left most of his palm exposed, he was thankful for that, it would aid him when he drove back home. 

There was a mother sitting on one of the 4 seats at the side, cooing at her baby in the pushchair, she had a slip of paper in her hand that she kept on flying over her child, making her giggle each time. But apart from that, there was only one person in the queue and when Jimin got behind him, he stepped back and gulped down the gasp that would have otherwise followed; it was the one named Kookie.

There was an entire bag of things on the counter in a paper bag with a green plus sign on it. Jimin wondered how much harm he had caused the pretty boy. He tried to think of all the hateful things he had said to him to make himself feel better for the harm inflicted on him, yet it did not justify him getting a head injury. Jimin needed to control his anger, his father’s name was at stake if nothing else. He bit the inside of his cheek as he realised he would have to tell Jin and Yoongi hyung what had happened; they were the only two people he tried remotely to be honest with. 

He watched the boy put away the cash he had bought, “I guess we need to bring out the debit card then,” he smiled, all teeth and sparkly eyes at the pharmacist behind the glass window. 

Jimin had already put his contactless on the screen before Jungkook could reach it. “I do not like to be kept waiting,” he said to justify his actions. More for his own sake than the boy in front of him. 

Jungkook grabbed the bag off the counter and stalked off, Jimin had never seen the younger boy angry before this. But what was he expecting to receive from him after giving his friend a concussion? A bow? 

He was handed the receipt of how much he had paid, alongside the underside of the prescription that Jungkook had left behind in haste. He collected his own medicine and was about to throw away the 4 slips of paper when he saw a stamp at the bottom of the prescription, it read: ward 27. Jimin gulped down his saliva with a mixture of longing. He cast his eyes to the top of the paper. 

“Kim Taehyung,” he whispered. 

He opened his right palm up, pain shooting across each of his bones. Across it was written 5 words that he had read every single day for the past 12 years. It was one of the last lies that was scribed on him, and the most meaningful to him. In bold black ink was written: I am not Kim Taehyung.

Jimin ran past porters carrying old people with drips on black trolleys, he stopped to let a hoard of medical students pass in front of him. Not even aware of the questioning look they gave him; he had not realised he was crying. He heard a nurse call out to him to not run in her corridors and a doctor stopped him in his tracks and told him to slow down. But he pushed past everything until he had reached his destination, it was a sideward attached to the emergency department. His last hurdle was the call button at the front of the door; he didn’t even know if it was visiting hours, but he needed to see his pretty artsy boy; his Kim Taehyung. The receptionist heard the panic in his voice, saw the tear-stained cheeks through the small screen attached to the call bell and let him in, but only after he had confirmed the patient's name and date of birth, which Jimin found easily on the prescription he still clung to.

Taehyung was situated in one of the cubicles, he needed the light to be at a certain dimness or else it felt like someone was cracking a rock against his head. The splitting pain was too much for him to comprehend without doubling up in two. 

He squinted at the figure that stood at his door and turned his face when he realised who it was. He looked at the small framed picture of tulips to his left side. Tried to imagine what the artist was thinking of with each stroke. Who had inspired that drawing to be brought to life?

He felt Park Jimin’s fingers on his skin, he tried not to recoil as the boy touched his chin and moved his face so that they were meeting eye to eye. “For the past 8 years, I took you to be dead.” Park Jimin was beautiful when he cried, his face looked the same way Taehyung’s canvases did when he played with red and pink watercolours. His button nose looked cute when it had tears running across the side of it. Taehyung drew a breath in at the surrealistic art sat in front of him, the same one he had taught himself to despise. 

Taehyung knew exactly the words to say to break the fragile boy even more. To crush him into fine dust that he could rub between his thumb and forefinger. He was the one in power and he was going to make Park Jimin beg for him to be merciful. And then deny him every time.

“I love you,” Taehyung said simply. 

And he cracked into a smile, causing blood to draw forth again at his torn lips as they both watched the words being written across the rich boy’s heart. 

Before the end of the last word, Park Jimin had lost all of his colour. He sat there as motionless as a statue, unforgiving of what had been done to him. He closed his eyes and the last two drops of his tears slid down his face and onto his neck. 

It was the first lie Taehyung had spoken in 8 years and it was enough to cause a lifetime of pain for Jimin. 

* * *

“You don’t need to do anything to him hyung,” Taehyung was tired, he just wanted to be in Hoseok hyung’s double bed, with the four of them sprawled across, all hands and legs everywhere. He did not want to be having this conversation right now, or ever. 

“He literally gave you a concussion, what do you mean don’t do anything to him?” Hoseok snapped, it was a rare sight to see him angry and it made Taehyung want to crawl under the hospital's very thin mint coloured blanket. 

“I hurt him beyond repair already,” Taehyung said, his words as hollow as the boy he had watched walk away. Taehyung had managed to scoop all of his insides and keep them with him; he had sent Park Jimin back as a shell of a man to the one who had entered his hospital bay. He had distinguished all his hopes in one swift blow. 

“You fought him before you hit your head?” Namjoon whispered, he sat on the one reclining chair the room offered, Jungkook perched on the armrest.

Taehyung rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, it was only once faced with the task of providing his friends with an explanation of what he had done, did he realise just how cruel he had been. But at least it was the truth; he did not love Park Jimin and now he knew it for sure. He felt lightheaded, the image of Park Jimin’s pained expression flashed before him. He knew if he had reached out he could have felt the warmth of his flushed cheeks under his fingertips. He shook his head. The glimmering of the last two drops of tears still haunted him, they had looked like diamonds, stuck to his black eyelashes. He could taste the saltiness of the tears along the rich boy’s nose and down his neck. He inhaled a sharp breath in; he needed oxygen, he was going to faint once again. 

Jimin spent the entire night and the following day in bed. He was sandwiched between his two hyungs, Jin back hugging him and Yoongi moulding in his arms from the front. It was as if they were trying to keep his body from freezing to death or holding their little brother from the mouth of a volcano that he otherwise would have jumped into. Jimin clung on; he had had his heart broken before, had broken more than he could count himself but this one was different. This was felt raw and untamed. It was like a tiger was clawing at his heart the entire time, sat on top of him, squeezing the air out of his lungs in painful bouts. He wanted to feel numb.

He cried when Jin gave him small sips of water to drink and when Yoongi changed him out of one set of pyjamas to the next. He wept when they tried to leave him to receive the numerous cuisines of food that their chef had made and that Jimin did not touch. He gave all of his answers in a nod or shake of the head, only opened his mouth to scream out the agony that gushed through his veins.

The soulmate he had been longing for all these years did not love him back. In fact, he hated him. And apparently, against someone’s very high expectations, Jimin was meant to live through that sort of thing. 

It was Monday morning and Hoseok was trying to strip Taehyung off in his art studio. 

“Hyung! Getttt off of me! What are you even-” he felt his top raised up, his body exposed to the chilling winter coolness that lingers even when indoors.

“I’m trying to see where Park Jimin left his snake imprint today.” 

“I have not seen his unlucky face since he gave me that head injury! Now please,” Taehyung wrapped his coat around himself tightly, “let me work in dignity.” 

Namjoon sat across from him on the marble table, much of it covered in scrap pieces of paper and paints that he could not even bother naming. He was grinning at the scene that had unfolded, his dimples as deep as the holes that were holding Taehyung’s paints in his palettes.

“I didn’t want to tell you this because since the start of the semester you have been on, um how do we put it, disagreeable terms with Park Jimin?” Hoseok flashed a smirk at Namjoon, who had now picked up one of the dozens of paintbrushes and was swirling some of the shades of purple together.

“I guess we could call it that,” Taehyung had not yet told his friends exactly what he had done to his so-called soulmate the last time they met. He was too scared they would think him a monster, he could not afford a negative reaction from the three boys he loved the most. 

“But he was missing from the dance class today and I seriously can’t afford to lose him, he’s the lead dancer for the first year’s modern piece for fuck’s sake.”

Taehyung spat out the pear juice he had just taken a sip of, the otherwise sweet taste gone bitter. “He what?” 

“Well… he’s the only first-year who’s actually serious about their performance. He records himself every session and then monitors himself with a look of such concentration that the first time he did it I thought he was playing a spot-the-difference game on the screen.” 

“Of course he is the lead dancer. Of. Fucking. Course,” Taehyung wiped away at his chin, feeling the syrupy texture along the back of his hands, his face was one of indignation.

“I mean, since we are revealing things about him,” Namjoon paused for dramatic effect, he had a devilish look in his eyes. 

“Hyung if you can’t say anything bad then keep your silence,” Taehyung shot him a look of downright displeasure, he did not want to hear whatever was coming next.

“I am very sure that is not how the saying goes,” Hoseok chimed in. Reaching his hand out to receive the pear juice from Taehyung. 

“He was the one who got the full scholarship for the science and technology department.” Namjoon had been to the undergraduate dinner held for all scholarship holders from the four different faculties. He had won it for the arts and humanities college the year before. 

“Out of all the people, that rich wet-wipe was the one who got the scholarship? How is that even fair?”

“Taetae, you know the faculty scholarships are different from the rest, these have nothing to do with your financial background, it’s to do with your exam scores. He must have worked really hard to get it.” Namjoon’s eyes were gleaming. “Whereas it was a different case for me, you know...with the IQ of 149....” He moved to the right but still managed to catch the spray of paint that Hoseok had launched at him.

Taehyung was rhythmically hitting his head on the marble desk in front of him. He questioned if his friends even loved him at all because they would have surely kept all this to themselves if they did! 

“Just leave me to drown in my own misery hyungs, and tell Jungkook to buy me some mini doughnuts too,” he said, his voice coming out in a half whimper. 

He wondered why Park Jimin had not told him all of this when he was given the chance to… why he had just smiled and let Taehyung walk into his lecture hall that Friday with all of his misconception about him. ‘I mean he did land me in the hospital on the second occasion, so it wasn’t that he was being modest,’ Taehyung thought, trying to put his mind back to the surrealistic piece he was working on. Yet with no idea as to where he was going with it.

It was a whole week later Taehyung that spotted Park Jimin again, he was stood outside the same lecture hall, a deja vu of the last Friday. Taehyung did not know why he had sighed in relief at the sight of him. It came out as a reflex he convinced himself. It was not like he had wondered every day for the past week where the rich snob was, or why he was not attending any of his classes. No, he had definitely not done that. 

“Taehyung,” was all that Park Jimin had to say to stop him in his tracks. Two syllables was all it took for Taehyung to feel like he was swimming in the darkest of oceans. He hated this feeling of being enticed. ‘Why does it sound so different coming out of his mouth? Why is my heart racing like this?’

“We need to talk,” Jimin knew he was being bold, he knew he ought to stay far away from the boy that had broken his heart and yet he didn’t like this distance that separated them. Maybe Taehyung did not love him, but what about his own feelings? What about how his entire being now clung onto the pretty-art-boy who he longed to call his own? Maybe Taehyung was right and he was selfish.

The aching he felt for Taehyung must have been the small part of the universe wanting to be bought together after having been separated at the start of the time.

“Ahem, no we don’t.” Taehyung was walking away, he had said all the three words to Park Jimin that he needed to in that hospital bay, it was meant to have been the end of whatever they had going on. He was not going to blow into an already dead fire. 

Jimin reached out and grabbed onto Taehyung’s wrist from the back. “I want you to listen to me.” 

Taehyung turned around at the speed of light, shot him a look of fury and, in as calm of a voice as he could muster, said. “Well, news flash Park, you can’t get everything you want in life. Must be a hard concept for you to get your head around, right?”

Jimin saw Taehyung’s left hand on where he still held onto his wrist and then felt the shock his own hand being hurled back at him.

“Why are you always so mean to me?” 

“What do you want me to do? Get on my knees and worship you?”

“How can you hate me so much for hurting your friends a little? Because everything I did to you, it was a reaction to your own words and actions.”

Taehyung laughed, it sounded as hollow as a bamboo stick. “You really think that I have only started to hate you since we met? Oh boy, do I have some news for you.” He shook his head in mock displeasure. 

Jimin did not answer. He wondered what he had done to Kim Taehyung for him to despise him this much. He stared blankly and willed for the boy in front of himself to continue.

Thankfully Taehyung did. “This,” the artist rolled his shirtsleeves up, his arms were inked in so many words, it was hard to disperse what was written on it. “And this,” he lifted his jumper up to reveal a garden of letters, all blossoming in every which way. Phrases written across each of his ribs like a map for the skeleton that lay under Taehyung’s skin. Sentences starting to root at the bottom of his stomach and arching all the way to his collarbone. 

“I have hated you ever since you decided you were going to lie with every breath you take. Ever since you gave up on your moral. The worst of it was me thinking of every person you made cry with your lack of concern. My heart reached out to all those tears that people shed because of the words that came out of your mouth. For every misunderstanding you created with your lies because you didn’t care for the circumstance of where they would land someone in.”

Taehyung thought of his mother and soon the tears were pooling up in his eyes, he knew all that was needed was one wrong word and he would be a broken dam. Uncontrollable and life-wrecking. “The life I have now is the end product of a lie from a loved one.” 

“I was not always like this,” Jimin breathed out. He was aware of his heart beating in his ears, at the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet. It was like time had stopped altogether and he and Taehyung were suspended in mid-air. It was not easy being reminded of all your sins.

“Oh save it Park, I don’t want to hear about your tortured rich boy sob story,” Taehyung inhaled and looked up at the ceiling. ‘I am not crying in front of him. Never in a million years.’ 

“But please I can-” 

“You can explain all of the times you lied to people about loving them? How are you going to explain,” Taehyung pointed at his hips, “all these things you said to people when you made love to them?” 

Jimin gasped, he turned away; he did not want to be reminded of all the things he had said to people in bed, in a haze of lust and hunger. “I thought you were dead. I was trying to fill in the void you left me in. I was,” he struggled to continue, how was he going to explain to this boy that his actions had been a result of spite at his own fate than anything else. He had a big black hole in the middle of his chest and had needed to do anything to forget it for a while.

“What a logical person you are, ‘oh my soulmates dead so let me just go fuck around until I forget him,’ he said the last bit in a high pitched voice, his fingers rising in the air in quotation marks. 

The smaller boy flinched. Stepped back a bit. “I was not always like this,” he repeated. 

They both turned around then. Neither being able to contain the tears that they had been fighting so hard to keep in control. They walked away, in the opposite direction to each other, and with each step, they felt the world crumbling around them until everything was a blur of haste feelings and unforgiven words.

Jin and Yoongi watched the young engineering student walk out of the building, walking unsteadily, unable to see through the tears. Saw him gasp for each breath as if his lungs were filled with acid. They shook their heads. One of them had to give up, and apparently, it was not the shaking boy in front of them. They watched him until he reached his car and fell to his knees, unable to say upright anymore. 

They both lent a hand each and pulled Kim Taehyung to his feet again. 

“I want to see him in light you both do,” the younger boy sobbed, his eye’s looking hopefully at the two boys he had never spoken to before and yet knew to be the closest to Park Jimin, “but it’s so hard.” 

“Let’s get you home,” Jin spoke softly, and Yoongi got in the driver's seat without much hesitation.

“All three of our fathers are business partners. They have known each other since they were in their twenties and I have known Yoongi and Jimin since the first day they were born.” Jin took out a photograph from behind his phone case, it displayed two toddlers leaning into a baby basket, and in it was a little boy swaddled in a dozen blankets. “It was not long before we were both taught that Jimin was our responsibility, the two of us only share a 4 month age gap, whereas Jimin is 2 years younger. It may not seem like a lot, but it made the world’s difference to the two of us. We never let him make the same mistakes we made, stepped in when we knew there was a trap laid for him to fall into, held his hand when there was a fork in the road and knew he would find it hard to decide which path to pick.” 

“But then everything changed when he started high school and the world started to show it’s true colours to him. Our fathers had wanted us to get a real grasp of life and not enrolled us to private schools; it was the worst thing to have happened to the three of us.” Yoongi was stern with his words, used them wisely and only said as much as he knew he needed to. He was looking out the window now, ready for Jin to continue. 

“His first group of “friends” had a group chat without him where they mocked him for his wealth. In the same way, you have been for a while now,” Taehyung was so lost in the story that he only realised the last comment had been directed towards him when he caught Jin’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. “They discussed how they could use him to their advantage, be it tricking him into paying for everyone’s food or buying a game that Jimin had no interest in but they did.” 

“Jimin was inconsolable the first time he found out,” Yoongi interjected. “Somewhere inside of him, a part of him changed that day. He was our brightest star, the one who laughed easily and mocked us till we both grew red in the cheeks. He used to see the world in swirling array of colours; each brighter than the one before it, and yet it was people in your rank who tainted him until all he saw was a mass of grey and black.” There was a tone of unforgiving fury in Yoongi’s voice, as if he would still go and hurt the ones who had hurt his little brother, years after it had happened. 

“His first girlfriend wanted him for a Gucci bag, his second boyfriend to use him to gain views on YouTube.” Jin still had the picture in his hand, he was playing with the edge of it, he sighed. “His classmates told him they would treat him like he was “normal” only if he did their work for them, or if he asked the teacher for an extension.” 

Yoongi laughed, Taehyung saw his eyes grow lighter and he seemed to look the happiest he had done ever since they had gotten in the car. “They usually listened to him after he got his maths teacher fired for not making the class work hard enough. I taught him well,” he chuckled and gave a gummy smile to Jin. Taehyung saw a mirror image of his friends in these; maybe they weren’t so different after all. He watched as the older boy put his hand on Yoongi’s hair and give it a little rub, it spoke of fondness that can only be gained after years of having been together. 

And then Jin said something that made Taehyung sink in his seats. “The only reason we have not burnt everything and everyone that hurt him yet is because he still treats us the same,” Jimin’s older brothers turned and gave each other a look. “He is still a pain in the ass for us, just like he had been since he was a child.”

“A big babbling, goofy baby. Did you see how he still ran to the sea when we reached Hawaii? I am tired of going to the same place for all of his heartbreaks, can’t we go to somewhere a bit more peaceful next time?” But the smile on Yoongi’s face said that he, in fact, would not change Jimin or his holiday destinations for the world, he loved every bit of the younger boy.

‘For fucks sake, of course they went on a holiday to Hawaii to distract him from his heartache. What else was I expecting?’ Taehyung was never going to get used to these rich boys, was he?

He had thanked them and shrugged on his backpack once more to his shoulders, was about to get in the house when he heard Yoongi call him back. He bit his tongue, ‘they want something in return for every small act of kindness they show, isn’t that how it is always?’ He looked back to see the windows rolled down but Yoongi was looking ahead, their eyes met in the side-view mirror. 

“Firstly, the reason why we have not doubled all the bones of your body is that Jimin made us promise to not lay a finger on you. Secondly, we won’t tell you to change your mind about him, it is up to you who you chose to love.” Taehyung flinched, he felt his heartbeat loudly in his ears. “But just know, if you want someone to heal you, to find the warmest person you have ever met, and for someone to be the only one you have; it would be our baby brother.”

The first time they crossed each other’s paths again, neither looked up. The first glimpses of spring was in the air, tiny shoots of hope growing everywhere except with these two boys. They kept their heads bowed, the ground being the anchor to their racing minds and hearts. Jimin was trying to sooth all the scars that Taehyung had opened up in him, and unsurprisingly, they were taking a sufficient amount fo time. And Taehyung? He did not know what was holding him back, but there seemed to be an elastic band across his middle, stopping him from reaching out and putting back all the many pieces he had broken Park Jimin to.

The second time they passed each other, Taehyung stopped just where they had aligned together. He watched Park Jimin raise his head once more and hoist his shoulders back where they normally belonged. Taehyung saw a glimmer of a red serpent ring as he raised his hand to fix his tinted glasses on his nose once more. He strode with the confidence of a marching band; no one would ever assign the heartbroken boy to the image that Park Jimin conveyed for the public. Taehyung had hated arrogant people all his life, and yet this boy wore it so well. 

On the third occasion, it was pouring down with rain, everyone ducked every which way. Even the most broke students bought an umbrella from the convenience stores allocated around the campus. And yet Jimin strode across, his white shirt soaking to his skin. The word; nevermind, a lie that Taehyung had used the most during his childhood, visible across his ribcage. He knew that if anyone cared to look, they would see the ‘I love you’ incision on his heart, but these were his soulmates words and he wore them proudly. Like one wore the initial of their beloved’s name, this was his proclamation of his love for someone who was not in love with him. 

Taehyung carried a sturdy umbrella, it was a collective one the four of them used; and with his face hidden, he handed Park Jimin his beige jacket, the one with his surrealistic painting on the back. The rain made it difficult to make out much besides blurred layout people and objects; just enough for one to not collide. It was within that small gap between darkness and the streetlights being turned on. 

It would be a lie to say Jimin was not surprised by this sudden action but it would be a bigger lie to say he did not recognise who those beautifully carved hands belonged to. The perfectly sculpted fingers with their ever-gorgeous nailbeds. The three deep veins that ran on the back of Taehyung’s hands were more highlighted then ever; the rain reflecting in a way that made Jimin gasp a little. Even in the darkness of a grave, Jimin was sure he could pick out Taehyung’s features. It was an inherent feeling of chaos being calmed when he was stood across from his pretty-art-boy. He wondered how Taehyung had managed to not feel the ache he felt, ‘he must be one strongly resolute person to be able to ignore the pulling of our soulmate string.’ He thought.

Park Jimin shook his head, the droplets of rain being flung far and wide. Taehyung watched bashfully from under his umbrella, he had to grit his teeth and plant his feet tighter on the ground because all he wanted to do in that moment was close the gap between the two of them until their bodies were one. Until it was hard to tell which breath rose from which lung. But he could not, the elastic band across his chest was pulling back tighter than ever, any more strength applied and he was sure he would be pushed into space, falling until time ceased to exist and yet not able to reach his soulmate.

He watched Park Jimin walk away, he was drenched to the bones and his lips swollen from the cold. He saw how his hands had lost of all their normal warmth. How the three snake rings on his right hand seemed to be begging Taehyung to keep them dry. So he dropped his own umbrella to the ground and used his empty hand to grab onto as much as the smaller boys soaked shirt as he could. When Park Jimin turned to him, his eyes were daring when they met his own. They were decadent and yet innocent. 

Taehyung draped his jacket around his shoulders, his fingertips burning everywhere they touched the delicate boy. He bought the two sides together and tightened them around Park Jimin’s front. When the smaller boy reached out to hold on to edges together, their hands touched and Taehyung felt a warm glow start at the pit of his stomach. He was alive in a way that made all the rest of his life fall to shame.

When they both turned around, Taehyung drew blood from his lips; a punishment for what he had allowed himself to do. And Park Jimin? He was burning with the brightness of all the stars the galaxy held.

Jimin knew the body that slid into the booth he was studying in, but he did not lookup. He heard the thump of books falling inches from his face and a very loud sigh that almost made him laugh. He twirled his Apple pencil in his hand expertly, and yet did not give the boy in front of him the satisfaction of his gaze. 

“Oi, cockalorum,” Taehyung started, it was going to be hard being nice to this dickhead. “Look here,” he instructed. Nothing, not even a twitch of an eyelash. 

  
“Your royal highness,” he tried, and yet no reaction. Taehyung looked at the notes on the Ipad and wanted to scream, they looked as beautiful as calligraphy, he would not be surprised if he did that as an extracurricular activity too. Because apparently, the rich got more than 24 hours in a day to do all of their affluent activities. 

If this did not work Taehyung was going to say goodbye and leave forever. “Prince charming,” he said, but not in a way that meant to hurt, it came out softer than he had ever said it. It was like he was tasting candyfloss in his mouth, longing for the rush of summer sweetness. 

Park Jimin raised his head, looked up and gave Taehyung a crescent moon smile. His cheeks raised high enough to meet the edges of his eyes. ‘Fuck,’ the recipient thought. ‘I am so fucked.’

“Okay, so you like being called that do you?” Taehyung pretended to be annoyed, and yet he could not do anything about the soft smile that reflected on his own face. 

Jimin nodded, his pink hair bouncing beautifully in front of his eyes. He was definitely the epitome of cuteness. 

Moments passed before Taehyung was able to will himself to push his notepad over to where Park Jimin sat. It was a blank page mostly, just one question at the top of it. It was a small sign of surrender towards all the things he had done to the lovely-crescent-smiled-babbling-baby he was destined to be with.

The laughter that gushed forth from Park Jimin when he tried to write with his Apple pen on the notepad was all that Taehyung needed to know he could not step back now. He felt all the shackles of pain and hurt that had been cast tightly around him being cut one by one. The tightness of his chest felt alleviated as if Park Jimin was the only bronchodilator that he needed. Yoongi had been right; this was his only way of healing.

After their fourth tutoring session Taehyung asked Jimin if he was free next Saturday, he needed to buy a suit for the charity dinner that was being organised. 

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Taehyung saw glimpses of the little boy that Jin and Yoongi found so hard to resist. ‘What a mood,’ he thought but frowned at the boy in front of him. 

“The fuck would I do that for? I just thought you would be knowledgeable in buying suits, you know, having all of those expensive dinners your family probably forces you to go to.” 

“You know what? I actually like those dinners, the gossip is out of this world and I always end of being someone else’s most favourite person. Not to mention that Jin and Yoongi hyung are the best drinking partners afterwards.” 

Jimin was driving the two of them home after the charity dinner. Taehyung was flushed a shade of red that Jimin had never seen on him. It was hard to keep his eyes on the road when he had Taehyung sat there, trying to make himself invisible against the car seat.

“I am never forgiving you for not telling me you were going to attend this dinner too.” 

“Well, I mean it would be quite rude to not attend the charity that my father and my two uncles sponsor. Don’t you think so?” 

“You never mentioned you were training for a triathlon.” 

Jimin was silent. He felt on edge with what he could or could not say to Taehyung, there was a fine line between his happiness and rage and Jimin was still figuring it out.

They were driving across the country lanes, the vast greenspaces being their sole alley. The only noise came from the trees branches that hung low and were slapping against the car as it glided through them. “Why did you never tell me about all of these things you and your family do?”

“You never gave me a chance to explain myself,” Jimin was not angry, he was just stating facts. Saying it the way it had been. 

When the car stopped, Jimin turned around to see that there were tears streaming along Taehyung’s face. He was staring straight ahead. 

Park Jimin’s hands instinctively rose to his face, it was as if comforting others came as a reflex to him. The crying boy saw his small hands reach inches from his cheeks and then stop. He was still scared of the way Taehyung may lash out at him and that made Taehyung feel wretched. There was still a lot to be done, mostly from his side. 

Taehyung reached out and grabbed the smaller boy’s hands in his own, and bought it to his cheeks. He felt his fingers against his skin and for the first time knew what it was to be comforted in a way that made the storm in his mind halt for a while. He found it easier to cry, to unleash the dam that had always threatened to burst. Because he knew Park Jimin could build a stronger and better one for him.

“I know I never gave you the chance to explain yourself,” Taehyung squeezed the hand that was under his own. “But will you let me explain myself?” 

Jimin nodded, this was everything he had wanted from the beginning. For him to learn the ropes that strung up the person that Taehyung was. To finally be able to trace his fingers alongside the book that told him all the things he needed to know about his soulmate. They would have all the years for Jimin to open up; he was not important when it came to learning about his own soulmate. He would forget his own fairytale if it meant he could listen to Taehyung’s. 

The art room was empty for once, and in it sat Taehyung, crossed legged and in front of the canvas he had started to paint months ago. He felt the stokes of his brush come easily to him now, it was like he had always known what to draw, but had been too scared to until now. The first time he had laid eyes on Park Jimin, he had compared him to a surrealistic art piece, and now, he had a concrete canvas to display him on. 

  
“What are you doing next Sunday?” Taehyung stood outside of his Engineering Mathematics 1 lecture hall, the boy addressed about to go in. 

“Why, what do you have to buy this time?” Park Jimin asked. Taehyung could have sworn the serpent necklace resting on his chest winked at him.

“I’m asking you on a date, you fool.” Taehyung snapped, he was about to walk off before the snakes adorning Jimin’s body could mock him anymore. He was trying his best okay! 

“At least tell me the time,” the physics student demanded, “what an incomplete invitation this is!” 

“Go fuck yourself, Park.” Taehyung felt his cheeks burn, he tried to keep the eye contact that Park Jimin was adamant to maintain, and yet his gaze could not hold up.

“Why don’t you do it for me?” Jimin felt at least a hundred butterflies in his stomach, they were soaring through to his lungs and trying to escape from his mouth. 

“Ele-ven a-m,” Taehyung stammered before turning on his heels and stalking off. He had enough of this shithead. He was never going to ask him on a date ever again!

This time it was Taehyung who drove Jimin home. And oh boy, what a home it was. He had sat in the car for at least 20 minutes before getting out to open the door for Jimin. They could have a football team’s worth of children and yet the house may have spare rooms to fill. 

It was at the door that Taehyung reached out and grabbed Park Jimin’s hand from the back. The smaller boy did not turn around. He wondered what was holding him back.

“Jimin,” he whispered. The name sounded like it had been created for his mouth only. It tasted like his younger brother’s chocolate that he would steal bites of. And the first lick of the ice cream from his sister that she always let her brother have. It was the taste of his father’s homemade burger that he always got told to taste before it was served out to the rest of the family. But mostly it was like the taste of his mothers chicken soup that she made to heal her oldest son, to protect him from the world’s of disease by just that simple creation. It tasted familiar, it tasted like home. 

He gave another tug and they were stood with their noses touching. Every inhale of breath taken in unison. The universe felt small for the amount of love they shared for each other. It was becoming harder to remain afloat amidst the ocean of feelings that were crashing by their foot. 

“I love you,” Taehyung heard Jimin say, and he felt a different sort of ache in heart. Not the one he had grown used to over the past few years. This ache came from within his heart as if Jimin was writing these words in his very cells with his beautiful handwriting, as softly as a feather tracing across his skin. 

Jimin stepped up and pressed his lips to Taehyung’s, it was nothing adventurous or flamboyant. It was a simple kiss that told his soulmate that he was sorry for the pain he had endured on his behalf. And when Taehyung kissed back, he was promising Jimin of the world of happiness that lay ahead of them, and that, yes, in fact, he was sorry on his behalf too; he had not been the kindest. 

“I love you too,” Taehyung replied, and this time it was not a lie. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this work of mine, I appreciate your time a lot! Please leave a comment to make me happy. 
> 
> I have other fics (canon, au's, one-shots and chaptered fics) if you would like to give them a go :) 
> 
> This work was created and posted for free, however, if you would like to support me, you can tip me here: [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/vminthough)
> 
> All the love, ira


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